


A Little Competition Never Killed Anyone

by chaostheorem



Category: Psych
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostheorem/pseuds/chaostheorem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn and Juliet engage in a little friendly competition, but when does anything ever go according to plan for these two? Shules fluff that turns into Shawn whumpage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Juliet woke slowly, the sunlight filtering through the blinds dragging her into consciousness without her consent. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was 7:53. She hid her face in her pillow in an attempt to fall back asleep, but she gave up after a few minutes.

Getting out of bed quietly so as not to wake Shawn, Juliet crept to her kitchen and started gathering ingredients for a smoothie. Just as she went to pour the orange juice, she realized that the blender would wake Shawn way too early for a Saturday morning, so she put everything away and fixed a bowl of cereal instead.

She settled on the couch with her bowl of Lucky Charms and turned the TV on to the local news. The first story was about a robbery that she and Carlton were already working on, the second was on a mugging in which the offender had already been arrested, and the third featured a local man who was celebrating his one hundredth birthday today. She waited through a commercial break so that she could catch the weather. Sunny with strong gusts of wind.

Finished with her breakfast, Juliet took her empty bowl to the kitchen, making a mental note to thank Shawn for insisting they buy the sugary cereal. The microwave clock said that it was 8:18, which meant that it would still be a couple of hours before Shawn was awake.

Deciding to go for a run, Juliet went back into her bedroom to change. She thought she managed to get ready without waking Shawn, but when she started for the door, the supposedly sleeping form spoke.

"Jules," he called, drawing her nickname out slowly. "I thought we were past the 'sneaking out the morning after' phase. Not that it would make much sense for you to sneak out of your own apartment. Makes about as much sense as Go-Tarts. Aren't Pop-Tarts already portable? Do they really need to be extra portable?"

Smiling, Juliet turned around as Shawn rolled from his side to his back. She walked to the bed and sat down next to Shawn.

"I was just going to go for a run. I thought you'd be asleep for a few more hours. Sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be sorry, Jules. Waking up is never fun, but since it has to happen, usually at least once a day, being woken up by you is towards the top of my list of best ways to wake up."

"Towards the top?" Juliet said, repeating Shawn's words as a question. "What are some of the better ways?" she asked teasingly.

"Well," he said, pretending to think about the question, "let's just cover the top five. Number five is being woken up by a phone call to work on a case with you, number four is being woken up by you, number three is being woken up by naked you, and number two is being woken up by naked you holding food…preferably pineapple, but it's not a requirement," he interjected with a small shake of his head.

"And number one?" Juliet asked, grinning like an idiot.

"Number one is waking up naturally with you in my arms, even better if it's naked you" he said with a smirk, "and since I was deprived of that opportunity this morning, I think you should make it up to me."

"Oh? And how can I do that?" she asked, leaning towards Shawn as she asked.

Reaching up and wrapping a hand around the back of Juliet's head, he brought her face an inch from his own. "Like this," he said, pressing his lips to hers. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, then slipped it into her mouth when she opened it.

Pulling away after he thought she'd been thoroughly kissed, he grinned at her. "Someone's been enjoyin' me lucky charms," he said, his Irish accent sorely lacking. "You know, I have some lucky charms of my own. Do you want to enjoy those, too?" he asked, pulling Juliet across his body onto the bed and rolling so that he was on top of her.

"Hmmm," Juliet mused. "Sounds fun," she said. Shawn grinned in triumph and leaned down, but Juliet held a finger to his lips before he could kiss her. "But," she said with emphasis, "I am going for a run."

Juliet wriggled out from under her boyfriend, still frozen in mock shock at being turned down.

"You're just going to leave me here? That's cold, Jules."

"You're welcome to come with me," she said, "but you know I'm training for the Pier to Peak Half Marathon. You'd have to keep up with me, and I'm not sure you're up to the task," she joked.

"Oh, I'm up to the task," Shawn answered, throwing off the sheets and hopping out of bed. He ran in place for a few seconds. "What about you, Jules? Think you can keep up with me? I'm a man of many secrets."

"And one of those secrets is that you're a marathon runner?" Juliet asked.

"It could be," he said, still running in place. "C'mon, Jules. Psychic versus detective. This is going to be epic."

"You're on."

An hour later, Juliet and Shawn were stretching on Stearns Wharf. She hadn't planned on running the actual marathon track, but Shawn had insisted, so they made their way down to the pier. They had been trading barbs the entire time, and both were eager for the challenge to begin.

"On the count of three?" Shawn asked. At Juliet's nod, he started counting.

"One," he said, waiting a few seconds before yelling, "two, three!" as quickly as he could and taking off as fast as he could.

He made it several dozen yards before he looked back and realized that Juliet was nowhere close to him. Worried that something was wrong, he turned around and started running back, then stopped and waited for her to come to him when he saw that she was fine.

"Jules, you're not even trying," he said, starting to jog alongside her. "This isn't even a competition."

"It is a competition," she said. "It's just not a race. And I'm beginning to suspect that marathon running is not among your many hidden talents."

"What makes you say that?"

"You do realize that a half marathon is thirteen miles, right?"

"Thirteen miles!" Shawn exclaimed. "Why would a person ever want to do that?"

"Lots of reasons, one of which is charity," Juliet answered.

"I don't see how running can help charity. Is it a _It's a Wonderful Life_ thing? For every mile run a child gets a cure?"

"No, Shawn. Now stop talking so that I can kick your ass in silence."

The pair jogged through the streets of Santa Barbara. They were evenly matched for about the first mile, and then the difference in their training became more and more obvious. Whereas Juliet's strides and breaths were sure and even, Shawn's were unsteady and erratic.

When they reached the fourth mile at East Mountain Drive, Juliet shouted back to Shawn to ask if he had had enough. His response consisted of waving his arms and shaking his head, so Juliet continued.

By the time Juliet reached the halfway point, she couldn't see Shawn anymore. Figuring that even Shawn would have to concede defeat and figuring they'd gone far enough, she pulled her phone out of her zipped pocket and called Gus.

The phone only rang once before Gus answered. "Juliet," he said in way of greeting. "Is Shawn in trouble?"

"No, no, he's fine, Gus. Are you free to do a favor?" she asked, even though Shawn had informed her even before they'd even left the apartment that Gus was available all day.

"I'm over working at the Psych office, but it's nothing important. What do you need?"

"A ride, if it's not too much trouble. We're on Gibralter Road, a couple miles before Hairpin Turn."

"On the Pier to Peak track? I've been trying to get Shawn to do that for years. How did you…Never mind. I don't want to know. I'll be there soon."

"Thank you, Gus. See you soon," Juliet said.

"Bye, Juliet."

Juliet waited almost five minutes before Shawn jogged into view. He was gasping for air, but he was still plodding along. He reached her in a couple of minutes, then stopped beside her. He bent over, hands on his knees, and drew in huge gulps of air.

"Giving…up so soon..., Jules?" he asked in between breaths.

Juliet stared at him incredulously. "No, but I thought you might."

"Why would I…give up?"

"Maybe it's because you can't breathe, Shawn. Or the fact that your running has turned to staggering."

"That's not fair. It's the elevation."

"You really can't admit that you lost, can you, Shawn?"

"Two out of three?" he asked, finally standing up straight.

"That means I won," Juliet gloated. "And there's no way you can do this another time."

"I can so!" he defended quickly. "And it's two more times, because I'm going to win."

"You are hopeless," Juliet said, shaking her head with a smile on her face. "Besides, Gus is already on his way."

"Fine," Shawn said, pretending to be put out. "But what are we going to do to pass the time?" he asked, stalking toward her with a growing smile.

Juliet put her hands up and backed away. "Oh, no. We are both sweaty and gross."

Her protests did nothing to stop Shawn's advance, and he soon had his arms wrapped around a playfully struggling Juliet.

"Shawn! Shawn, stop!" she giggled, but her laughter just spurred him on.

"Admit it. Admit that I won," he said, starting to tickle her.

"Never!" she gasped in mock outrage, which was quickly replaced by more squeals of laughter. She continued to try to pretend to try to escape, enjoying the flirting despite her proclamation of being too gross.

All of a sudden, Shawn stopped torturing her with his prodding fingers and became still as a statue. She raised her head and saw him looking at something over her shoulder, but before she could turn to look, he had jumped to the side of the road, pulling her along just in time for the car driving perilously close to the edge of the road to miss them. The quick moment had thrown them both off balance, though, and Shawn only had enough time to push Juliet back onto the road before he tumbled out of view.

"Shawn!" Juliet screamed in panic, scrambling to the edge on her hands and knees. Looking down, she could see his body bouncing farther and farther down the side of the mountain.

"SHAWN!"


	2. Chapter 2

Juliet watched Shawn's descent until the trees blocked all view of him. She desperately wanted to look away so she didn't have to see him bounce around like a rag doll, but she needed to be able to tell the rescue crews where to look. Every bone in her body screamed for her to scramble after Shawn, but she knew the futility of the action. Odds were that she would slip and end up hurt along with Shawn. Even if she was able to find him, he would likely need more medical attention than she could provide.

When she couldn't see him anymore, she leaned back from the edge and sat down. She pulled out her phone and called 911. She looked around as she waited for a response and saw that she was the only person in the vicinity. The driver of the car had taken off.

"911, what is the location of your emergency?"

Juliet took a deep breath to compose herself before speaking. "This is Detective Juliet O'Hara of the SBPD. I'm on Gibralter Road, a little past the six-mile marker for the Pier to Peak Half Marathon. Shawn Spencer, male, age thirty-three, 5'10", one hundred sixty pounds," she said, her training taking over as she spoke, "has fallen down La Cumbre Peak. We need search and rescue teams."

Juliet answered the dispatcher's questions as efficiently as possible, desperate for help to arrive but knowing that panicking wouldn't make it get there any sooner. When she finally got the okay to hang up, she kept her phone out and dialed her partner's number. She knew he spent most Saturdays catching up on paperwork at the station, and she prayed that he was there so he could bring backup.

The phone rang three times before he answered. "Detective Lassiter."

"Carlton, it's Juliet. There's been an accident. It's Shawn." The adrenaline from the incident was starting to fade, and she couldn't keep her voice from shaking a tiny bit.

"What has Spencer done now?" he asked. She ignored the gruffness directed at Shawn, which seemed to have doubled since Lassiter had discovered their relationship and tripled since he had agreed not to tell Chief Vick.

"We're on La Cumbre Peak. Shawn fell over the edge. Carlton,…" she started, then trailed off as she realized she didn't need to say anything else.

"I'm on my way," was all she heard before the line went dead.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, Juliet took another deep breath to calm herself. Shawn may be her boyfriend, but she was a detective, and being an emotional wreck wasn't going to help anyone.

Shifting from concerned girlfriend to detective mode, she took in the scene around her. The car had been coming down the mountain, which was strange enough, considering La Cumbre was generally hiked. She could recall a blue sedan, but she couldn't remember anything else that would identify the car.

Looking around, she couldn't see anything that stood out. The road was unpaved, and the dirt was undisturbed. Nothing to suggest that an accident had occurred no more than ten minutes before.

Juliet's eyes narrowed as she stared at the road. If someone had been trying to avoid hitting a hiker, he would have either braked hard or swerved abruptly, leaving defining marks. There were none.

"Oh, my god," she whispered aloud to herself. "This was attempted murder."

She walked to the edge of the road and looked over. The calm that had overtaken her as she had surveyed the scene started to fade and was replaced by the fear that the 'attempted' part of the crime was incorrect.

Juliet closed her eyes. She couldn't think that way. Shawn was alive. Shawn was all right. They were going to find him and he would be fine. The man she loved was not dead.

**

"You idiot! You missed them!" the man yelled, turning around to look out the rear window. "Hang on, there they go! They're going over the side," he said as the car rounded a curve and he lost sight of them.

"We did it?" the driver asked, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel so tightly.

"No, Tom. We did not do it. You missed them, and now we have no way of knowing if he's dead or alive."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one actually committing murder."

"Have you forgotten why we had to do this in the first place? We've already committed murder. Spencer solves every case he's given. It was only a matter of time before they gave our case to him, and then we'd spend the rest of our lives behind bars. We're only twenty-one!"

"We didn't commit murder!" Tom protested, still driving as fast as he could without losing control. "It was manslaughter, Charlie, and you're the one who said we should cover it up."

"Tom, I have told you a million times," Charlie said through clenched teeth. "Any death that occurs while committing a felony becomes murder. You're the one who knocked Walker down the stairs during the robbery, so it's your responsibility to take care of the one person who can catch us."

"We could have left town," Tom muttered.

Charlie sneered. "'We could have left town'" he repeated sarcastically. "Right. That wouldn't look suspicious. Spencer would still solve the case, and we'd be on the run for the rest of our lives. This was the only way and you know it."

Neither man said anything for a few minutes. Tom pulled into the parking lot at the start of the hiking trail, turned the car off, and looked at his friend.

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, clearly disgruntled. "If they're dead, we've got to get away from here as soon as possible, but if they survived the fall, then leaving them alive signs our death warrants."

"I…I think they're dead. We got 'em," Tom said, infusing as much confidence as he could into his voice, which wasn't much.

"You are a moron," Charlie said, rolling his eyes. "Odds are they survived. La Cumbre may be the tallest peak in Santa Barbara, but it's not even four thousand feet. Add to that the fact that they weren't even halfway up…" he said, trailing off. He slammed his hand against the dashboard. "Why didn't you just hit them? They gave us the perfect opportunity, and you screwed it up!"

"Hey!" Tom yelled defensively. "They were really close to the edge. It was either miss them or go over ourselves. We should have kept planning. You rushed us into this."

Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but he quickly closed it, whipping his head around as police cars and an ambulance turned into the parking lot.

"Go, go," he said urgently. "Slowly!" he said, realizing Tom was about to pull out as fast as he could. "We don't want attention."

As the car left the emergency vehicles behind, Charlie turned to Tom. "You'd better hope that psychic is dead, buddy, because if we get caught, you won't have to worry about living the rest of your life in prison. I'll kill you."

**

Shawn tensed, immediately trying to stand up. He realized just as quickly that that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Groaning, he tried to remember why he felt like he'd been hit, run over, and dragged by a train. Judging by the fact that the last thing he recalled was being a human slinky and that he was now lying on his back on the ground, he must have lost consciousness some time while bouncing down the side of a mountain. He'd bet a lifetime supply of movie trivia that his head had been introduced to a least a few trees and rocks on the way down.

Taking in his surroundings, the car and the fall all came back to him. Replaying the scene in his mind, he could see the car coming straight at them, the driver and passenger well aware of what was about to happen. He had managed to get out of the way of the car and glance at the license plate, but balance and gravity had teamed up against him after that. He remembered hearing Juliet scream his name as he fell, and she wouldn't have been able to do that if she was tumbling along with him, so he at least managed to save her from the fall. The only problem was that the two men in the car had apparently been aiming for one or both of them, so Jules could still be in danger.

The thought of Juliet in danger drove Shawn to try to sit up. Before he'd even sat halfway up, blinding pain in his right arm and a wave of nausea had him dropping back to the ground. Moving his head as little as possible to avoid increasing his headache, he looked at his arm. He could have sworn it wasn't supposed to stick out at that angle.

He ignored the pain it caused and started taking stock of his injuries. He already knew about the dislocated shoulder and the likely concussion, but the rest of his body also felt like a piñata from a five-year-old's birthday party. Breathing was a lot harder than it should have been, so he had either bruised or broken ribs. Maybe both. His legs were sore, but until he stood up, he wouldn't be able to tell the extent of his injuries.

Bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming, Shawn planted his left hand on the ground and pushed himself into a sitting position. His ribs screamed with pain, but he focused on thoughts of Juliet. Finally standing up, he almost collapsed when his left foot refused to sustain his weight; either a strain or a fracture there. Hopping over to the closest tree, he leaned it against it with his left hand and took as deep of breaths as his aching ribs would allow. His head had been fine for a few seconds, but he was getting dizzier and dizzier, and the edges of his vision were disturbingly blurred.

He could feel himself becoming more and more nauseous. He tried to push the feeling down, but it refused to go away. Eventually, it became too much and he found himself throwing up right onto to own shoes, unable to bend enough to avoid them. The violent upheaving further aggravated his injuries, but he could only wait out the episode.

Once the nausea finally receded, he opened his zipped pocket on his exercise shorts to get his phone, there for just such a purpose. Promising himself he'd thank Juliet for insisting he use it for his cell phone instead of the jelly beans he had planned on, he pulled out his phone, then closed his eyes in frustration. The cracks in the screen radiated from a single point, likely caused by a very pointy rock. Maybe he would have to upgrade that strong dislike of pointy things to hate after all. Still, while the death of his phone was disappointing, it had probably saved him from a bloody or fractured leg, so there was at least that.

He stood up away from the tree and looked around. The incline wasn't too steep, which indicated that he was likely near the base of the mountain, although it was possible that he had simply come to a stop on a mountain plateau. The trees blocked the sun, but taking in their shadows allowed Shawn to guess where it was in the sky. Knowing how long he'd been out would have helped, but going on the assumption that he wasn't out for long, he figured it was still morning. Turning south, he started limping and hopping toward where he thought the parking lot at the head of the hiking trail should be.

After what he estimated to be about twenty agonizing minutes, Shawn took a break. He'd been making his way from tree to tree, but even with the support they provided, he was painfully out of breath. The lack of oxygen made his head hurt worse, and his body was naturally trying to fix the problem by drawing in huge lungfuls of air. Unfortunately, the large breaths put more strain on his aching ribs, and if one or more were broken, he was risking puncturing a lung. If it came to a choice between passing out from oxygen deprivation or a collapsed lung, he'd choose unconsciousness.

His head shot up as he held his breath and listened as hard as he could. He had thought he'd heard a vehicle, so maybe he was closer to a road or the parking lot than he thought. Closing his eyes and focusing on his hearing, he was sure that he heard something. His heart leapt when he heard his name being shouted; it was faint, but the shouts and the vehicles were getting closer.

"Here! I'm over here!" he shouted as loud as he could, waving his uninjured arm over his head and continuing to shout.

When he saw one of the rescuers point at him, he dropped his arm and leaned against the tree next to him, waiting for the search and rescuers to come to him. As they got closer, he recognized the person on the closest ATV. He couldn't say he was all that surprised when he saw that Lassiter was the one who had spotted him. Jules must have called him.

"Lassie!" he yelled cheerfully over the roar of the engines. "I knew you'd find me."

"Shut it, Spencer," Lassiter said as he turned off his ATV and jumped off, running over to check on the man he was yelling at.

"Now, Lassieface," Shawn said placatingly, "you know you love search and rescues. They remind you of hide and seek as a child, and you always won. You're so good at that."

Seeing that the psychic wasn't in any immediate danger of death, Lassiter felt perfectly justified in engaging in their normal attempts to one-up each other. "Yes, but I normally want to find missing persons," he said in an obviously fake sweet voice. Seriously all of a sudden, he continued, "You, not so much. In fact, my life would have improved if we hadn't found you."

"You don't mean that," Shawn said in a teasing voice. Despite the lightness Shawn added to the situation, they both knew it was true, and Shawn found himself nodding his head in thanks to the detective, who responded in kind.

The paramedics had reached Shawn with a stretcher and were trying to convince him to lie on it so they could check his injuries. He refused a few times, preferring his hopping to being carried, but Lassiter was having none of it.

"For Heaven's sake, Spencer, just get on the stretcher so we can get out of here!" he said, his voice rising as he spoke. "O'Hara's going crazy with worry, though I can't say I see why she bothers."

Glaring at Lassiter good-naturedly, Shawn laid down. He tried not to show his pain, but when he saw that he wasn't fooling anyone, he switched tracks and played his injuries for all they were worth, grimacing and groaning at every move. He grinned when he saw Lassiter's face shift from concerned to annoyed.

The paramedics looked over his injuries, causing his pain to double. Did they really need to try to move his arm to see that it was dislocated? Was it really necessary to push on his ankle to see if it hurt? He wasn't stingy with his glares or his comments.

Finally giving the okay to move him, the medical team lifted him up and walked him over to the vehicle waiting for him, Lassiter tagging along behind them. They strapped Shawn in and then took off for the parking lot. The ride was surprisingly short, for which he was grateful. Hopping along had been painful, but at least he had known what was coming. Lying down and unable to see anything except trees and sky, Shawn had no way to brace himself for the pain, so he spent the entire ride tensed and hyperaware of his injuries.

"Shawn!" he heard, and he couldn't help but try to raise his head. He sent another glare at the woman who snapped at him to stay still.

"Jules?" he called in reply.

"I'm here, Shawn. So's Gus, your dad, and Chief Vick."

Shawn breathed a sigh of relief. Based on the quick appearance of the rescue crews and Lassiter's presence, he'd been almost positive Juliet was all right, but he hadn't realized how worried he was until she was here.

Suddenly, Juliet's face appeared in his view, looking down on him, quickly followed by Gus and his dad's.

"You okay, buddy?" Gus asked.

"Gus, don't be a burnt out light bulb in a dingy public bathroom. Of course I'm fine." His father rolled his eyes at Shawn's reply, but the relief was evident on his face.

"Your dad's going to ride to the hospital with you, Shawn," Juliet said, keeping a professional tone to her voice. Shawn remembered what she had said about Chief Vick being here.

It was Shawn's turn to roll his eyes, but he did so with a smile on his face, letting his dad know that he wasn't too upset about his presence.

Juliet's voice brought his attention back to her. "We're posting a guard outside your room, too. This wasn't an accident, Shawn."

"That's what the spirits said, Jules. They gave me the license plate." Much to the EMTs' chagrin, he insisted on giving at least a brief statement to Jules and Lassiter right before he was lifted into the ambulance.

"Be careful, Jules," he called before the doors closed on him once he was inside. "We don't know who they were after." Safe from Chief Vick's view, he blew a kiss to his girlfriend.

Looking around, Juliet made sure no one was looking and grabbed Shawn's kiss out of the air, putting it in her pocket. "You can finish giving it to me later," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Lassiter signed his name to his finished report and put it on top of the stack of papers to go to Chief Vick. He checked his watch and saw that it was almost five o'clock. Grabbing his empty coffee mug, he stood and made his way over to the fresh pot. He filled his cup and lifted it to his mouth to take a sip, but when he saw who was walking into the station, coffee was the last thing on his mind.

"McNab! What the hell are you doing?" he shouted across the bullpen.

Buzz came to a stop, looking both confused and frightened by the detective. He opened his mouth to answer, but Shawn cut him off.

"Lassie, since when is it against the law to lend a friend a hand?" Shawn asked.

"Spencer, I've had a good day, so I'm gonna cut you a break. For now. But stop taking advantage of your protective detail or I will have it removed," he threatened.

"Oh, he's not taking advantage, Detective Lassiter. I offered to carry him in. His ankle's still a little sore," Buzz explained with a sympathetic nod.

"And I appreciate it, Buzz," Shawn said, still being held by the officer who had carried him into the station like a parent carrying a sleeping child, despite the strain it put on his healing ribs. "You can just drop me off by those donuts over there," he instructed.

"Drop him right there, McNab, or so help me…" Lassiter trailed off.

Shawn looked at McNab, letting him know that he wouldn't be offended by his compliance with Lassiter's order. Buzz gently set Shawn on his feet and left once he'd made sure Shawn was all right.

"What are you doing here, Spencer?" Lassiter asked. "You know the Chief won't give you any cases until we catch whoever's after you. And may I say," he added, "it has been damn peaceful around here without you."

"Did I just hear you say that you don't miss having Jules out in the field?" Shawn asked loudly so that he would be overheard.

"I did not…," he started to hiss at Shawn, then turned and raised his voice. "I did not say that!" he announced to the room. Grabbing Shawn by the arm, he marched him over to an empty chair outside the Chief's office. "Sit," he ordered, shoving Shawn into the seat none too gently before he'd even had a chance to comply.

"Carlton, what's…Shawn? What are you doing here? Is everything all right? Where's Gus?" Juliet asked, coming over to them. Her hands were full of files, so Shawn assumed she'd been downstairs.

"Everything's fine, O'Hara. Spencer's just being his usual annoying self. He's trying to con the Chief into giving him a case."

"Oooh, close, but no banana, Lassie. That's not why I'm here. And Gus is at his 'job'," Shawn said, complete with air quotes.

Juliet cocked her head and looked at Shawn. "It's 'close, but no cigar,' Shawn."

"I've heard it both ways."

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I did come to talk to Chief Vick, but not to get a case. Well, maybe to get a case. If she offers, I'm not gonna say no. Or if it seems like she's in a good mood, maybe I'll ask. Oh! Do you think if I give her this coupon she'll give me a case?" he asked, pulling said coupon out of his pocket.

"Spencer!" Lassiter barked.

"Carly, calm down before you turn into my father. The real reason I came in was to get my protection detail removed."

"Spencer, if you die, I won't be held responsible. I'm drafting a waiver for you to sign," Lassiter said.

"Shawn, we still don't know who's after us, or if it's just one of us," Juliet said, throwing a dirty look at her partner for his apparent nonchalance.

"Oh, come on," Shawn whined, throwing his head back in frustration. "It's been a week. What do we know other than the fact that the car that tried to kill us was stolen? Nothing. You guys don't have any leads, and I haven't had any visions. I really think the spirits are disturbed by the extra presences around me. If we want to catch the bad guys, I need to be free to do what I do."

"Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick said as she exited her office, "if you insist on spending your spare time in the station, kindly refrain from disturbing my officers. Otherwise, find somewhere else to pass your day. As for your security detail, you are technically a civilian, so I can't force you to accept protection."

Shawn sent a triumphant grin toward the pair of detectives, but Chief Vick continued before he could say anything. "As a consultant, however, you should know that I prefer to hire people who follow my orders. It's up to you, Mr. Spencer."

Shawn shook his head and sighed dramatically. "You fight dirty, Chief Karen Vick. I'll keep the security, but don't blame me when I don't get any visions."

"And why wouldn't you , Mr. Spencer? The spirits don't seem to have any problem with contacting you here in the station with dozens of officers around. Why are they so shy outside of the station?" Vick asked, her voice amused.

"Why does Carlton ignore the care his hair so desperately needs? Why did I lose the fifth grade talent show? Why does Jules have an unhealthy obsession with that famous British football…soccer player guy? There are just some questions that will never be answered."

The Chief responded to Shawn's antics with an indulgent look, then turned toward her lead detective. "Detective Lassiter, you're guarding Mr. Spencer tonight, are you not?"

"I am, Chief."

"Good. Let him look over the Robbins case while he's here to see if he gets anything. After that, please escort him wherever he needs to go." With that, she turned and went back into her office.

"Goodie. A case," Shawn said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Show me the way, Lassie. Jules, tag along."

"I can't, Shawn. I have to go over these files."

"I understand. Are you going to be feeding your parrot tonight?" he asked, though they both knew he was really asking if she was free.

"Shawn, I don't have a parrot," she replied, meaning that she would be meeting up with him. Both she and Shawn had been given 24-hour protection details, so they hadn't been able to see each since the attack. Shawn wasn't sure how she had done it, but she had managed to convince Lassiter to take both shifts tonight so that she and Shawn could finally have an evening together.

Shawn smiled at her, then followed Lassiter over to his desk. He looked at the file, quickly determining that the Robbins twins were innocent. Without access to the scene, he couldn't identify the actual murderer, but he did his part by mentioning that he was getting some strong vibes that the girls were innocent.

"Okay, Spencer," Lassiter said as they were walking down the steps in front of the station, "I don't care what you normally do on a Friday night. I'm doing O'Hara a favor that unfortunately helps you as well, but I have my limits. We're going to your office, because I refuse to babysit you two in an apartment."

"First, I think it's awesome that you're going to spend the evening with us. Gus is joining us, too. I'm thinking _Back to the Future_ marathon, maybe a dance party, add some Truth or Dare, throw in a pillow fight…best night ever," Shawn finished in a sing-song voice. "Second, it's cute that you think not being in an apartment would prevent Jules and me from doing anything. Remind me to tell you about that time on a catamaran."

"Carlton!" Juliet's yell brought Shawn out of his reverie in time to see Lassiter take his hand off his gun.

"O'Hara, I will not put up with this all night," he growled.

Juliet held a hand up soothingly. "You don't have to. Shawn will behave. Right, Shawn?"

"Course, Jules. Meet us at the office?"

She nodded in affirmation and headed for her car. Shawn made to follow her, but Lassiter grabbed his collar and dragged him over to his car.

"Lassie, if you wanted me to yourself, all you had to do was say so."

"Spencer," Lassiter growled, "if you don't shut up I will shoot you and it will be worth every single second behind bars. I'm already bending the rules by not reporting you and O'Hara, but I refuse to break any as your guard, so you're riding with me. One word during the ride and I will make your life a living hell," he threatened.

Shawn knew that Lassiter could and would make good on his threat, but he couldn't stop himself from pushing the detective's buttons. He didn't utter a single word, but he made plenty of noises. He hummed some tunes, he drummed his fingers, he tapped his feet…anything that could drive Lassiter crazy without pushing him over the edge. They got to the Psych office in non-emergency record time.

As soon as Shawn was out of the car and heading toward the building, he was talking. "What do you want for dinner? I have my Easy Bake Oven, but we should have started cooking yesterday in that case. Sooooo…delivery? Pizza? Chinese? What are you hankering for, Lassie?"

Shawn turned to look at Lassiter so that he could see how close he was to exploding, but something in the corner of his eye caught his attention from across the street. Looking closer, he realized it was the muzzle of a gun.

"Get down!" he shouted, shoving Lassiter to the ground and diving after him as bullets started flying.

"Stay down!" Lassiter ordered as he pulled his gun from his holster and quickly assessed the situation. He saw the bystanders running and driving away and O'Hara jumping out of her car and crouching behind it, weapon pulled. Bullets were still impacting the building behind him, so he started shooting back.

He heard a scream from the area of trees the shooters were hiding behind and then the shooting stopped. One man hopped into a car and sped off. He saw O'Hara carefully picking her way to the downed shooter, so he made to go after the man in the car. He'd already gone a few yards when he glanced back to make sure Shawn was okay, immediately turning around and running back to the man.

"Spencer! Spencer, are you all right?" he asked, kneeling next to him.

"I've been better," Shawn said, his voice hoarse with pain. "I think we're going to have to cancel our movie and game plans for tonight. A definite 'no' on the Twister."

Lassiter chuckled at Shawn's joke, making them both realize the gravity of the situation. Lassiter pulled off his jacket and held it to Shawn's abdomen with his left hand, desperately trying to stem the blood flowing from the bullet wound located there. He placed his right hand over the hole in Shawn's left thigh.

"O'HARA!" he yelled as loud as he could. "WE NEED AN AMBULANCE STAT!" He craned his head around to see where his partner was. He could just see her standing next to one of the shooters, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

"ALREADY ON THE WAY!" she yelled back.

Lassiter turned back around and focused his attention on the man in front of him. Shawn had his eyes screwed tight and his teeth clenched in an effort to keep from screaming out, but he couldn't stop from moaning every few seconds. Judging by the relatively normal amount of blood from the wound in Shawn's thigh, the bullet hadn't hit an artery; it would still hurt like hell, but it should heal nicely. The one in the stomach was a different story. With the number of vital organs in the area, odds were at least one had been shredded by the bullet. The sooner the ambulance got here, the better chance Shawn had at surviving.

"Oh, god! Shawn!" Lassiter heard Juliet say as she came over to them.

Mimicking Lassiter's action from earlier, she pulled off her jacket and held it to the wound on Shawn's thigh. The detectives shared a glance, but neither said anything.

"I'm not dead yet," Shawn said. He'd tried to say it jokingly, but the humor fell flat thanks to his wheezing voice caused by his inability to breathe. Any progress his ribs had made toward healing had been set back by the hard impact with the ground.

"What's the ETA, O'Hara?" Lassiter asked, knowing she'd know he was asking about the ambulance.

"Should be any minute," she answered distractedly, focused on Shawn. "I'd already called one for the wounded shooter, but it's not lethal. He's in the back of your car."

"Good," Lassiter said, then turned his attention back to Shawn. "Spencer, I think it's safe to say they were aiming for you. Your knack for pissing people off is truly amazing."

"So you've said," Shawn replied, his voice slurred. His unfocused eyes began to droop closed.

"Shawn. Shawn, stay awake," Juliet said urgently.

"Come on, Shawn, stay with us," Lassiter encouraged.

"Everyone's so demanding," Shawn complained. He began to roll his head from side to side, moaning as he did so.

"His body's going into shock," Lassiter quietly said to Juliet. "Finally," he whispered to himself when he heard sirens. His jacket was soaked through with blood, and he didn't think the pressure he was applying was doing much good.

Placing his hand over Juliet's, he motioned with his head for her to let the EMTs know their location. She did, and he soon found himself pushed out of the way. Acutely aware of Shawn's blood coating his hands, he wiped his palms on his pants as they answered the medics' questions.

He stood next to Juliet as they watched Shawn loaded onto the stretcher. Juliet followed along as he was wheeled to the ambulance, but when she tried to get in, she was told she would have to follow in her own car.

"This man has had two attempts on his life in the last week. I'm not leaving him alone," she insisted.

"You can ride up front," the medic compromised.

Juliet looked at her partner. "I'll be along as soon as I can. Spencer's going to be fine," he assured her. She nodded and got in.

After the ambulance sped off, sirens blazing, Lassiter turned toward his car. The second ambulance had arrived soon after the first, and he had told them where their patient was without leaving Shawn's side. They were just loading the shooter into the ambulance. Lassiter checked in with the EMTs to ascertain the man's condition, and then escorted it to the hospital.

As he was driving, Lassiter focused on the new details of the case. The attackers were obviously aiming for Shawn, but unconcerned with collateral damage, they'd gotten another car, and one suspect was still at large. He went over the physical characteristics of the man he'd seen running away over and over in his head. Anything to avoid looking at the dried blood still on his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Shawn lay on his back in his slightly inclined hospital bed. He tossed the plastic container containing the two bullets the surgeons had removed up above his head only to catch it and do it again.

"Shawn," Gus said from his seat beside the bed.

"Yeah?"

"Stop using the bullets that almost killed you as entertainment. You know I think it's bad luck to keep those," Gus said, obviously uncomfortable around the bullets that had almost taken his best friend from him.

"What? These bullets?" Shawn asked. He held the clear container up so that Gus could get a good look and gave it a shake.

"The bullets that almost killed you? Yes, Shawn, those bullets. Now stop."

"Don't exaggerate, Gus. I didn't almost die."

"Your intestine was perforated and you went into septic shock, Shawn. That's fatal fifty percent of the time," Gus argued.

"Exactly. That means there's fifty percent of people who survive. Don't be such a half-empty pineapple smoothie kind of guy."

"I'm usually a very optimistic person," Gus said. He ignored Shawn's snort of disbelief. "Stop that!" he ordered when Shawn started throwing the bullets again.

"Well, maybe I would if I wasn't so bored. Honestly, how can you watch this?" Shawn asked, gesturing to the TV.

"I cannot believe you, Shawn. You were a star of Explosion Gigantesca de Romance and you still mock it."

"Of course I mock it. It's a _soap opera_ , Gus. I'm not a stay-at-home mother of two."

"People of all demographics enjoy soap operas. They have fascinating characters and compelling storylines. This week, Serena is trying to get Raul, Chad's son, back from Corrine, who kidnapped him."

"I know. The show called and asked if I would come back for a five-episode story arc. They wanted Chad to kidnap Raul to get back at Serena, Corrine, and Vicente for trying to kill him."

"What? Why didn't you do it?" Gus asked, outraged that his friend would pass up the opportunity.

"I have to keep my schedule open. The bad guys don't work nine to five. Thank goodness, right? I'm morally opposed to waking up before nine o'clock."

Gus didn't say anything, letting his silence show his disapproval. He turned his attention back to the TV. When Shawn threw the bullets again, Gus reached over and grabbed the magazine Juliet had left behind when she'd gotten a call from Lassiter.

"Here. Read this," he said as he threw the magazine at Shawn.

" _Cosmo_?" Shawn said questioningly. "First soap operas and now _Cosmo_? Who are you?"

"You said you were bored so read it. Not man enough?" Gus challenged.

"It's not about being man enough; it's about having no desire to read a woman's magazine. Like I've never had any desire to kick a puppy or go to Antarctica." Gus raised his eyebrows. "Okay, that last one's a lie. Penguins are adorable."

"You know that's right."

Shawn opened the magazine, looking at a few pages at random. A picture labeling Simon Baker as a fun, fearless male of 2011 caught his attention. "Dude," he said as he held the picture up to Gus, "is he why _The Mentalist_ is so popular?" Shawn studied the picture. "It's his hair. Women just want to run their fingers through it. Look at my hair, though. It's better than his." He looked to Gus for affirmation, but his friend was engrossed in the television show.

Flipping through the magazine again, Shawn stopped when he found a page that had the corner turned down. The blurb under the title promised seventy-five tempting bedroom ideas to work with. He noticed that Juliet had circled some of the numbers; his eyebrows rose as he read them. If she was thinking of trying some of these, he wouldn't object. He was so busy picturing nibbling a candy necklace garter off Juliet that he barely noticed when she came back.

"Shawn, what you doing?" she asked amusedly.

He met her gaze with a smirk. "Just reading about candy necklaces," he said, angling the magazine toward her so she could see what he was reading.

"Interesting," she said, her voice giving nothing away but her eyes sparkling.

"Yes, it is. I'm thinking we should stop and get some when I finally get out of here."

"Not necessary. I picked some up earlier." Her smile grew wider when she saw Shawn close his eyes and smile at her words.

Gus looked between his two friends, aware that something was going on but not wanting to know what it was. He changed the subject before he learned more about his friends than he wanted to.

"So, Juliet, any news about the case?"

"Yes, actually," she answered, breaking her eye contact with Shawn to look at Gus. "Lassiter finally got the suspect to speak. Turns out Johnson and a friend named Charlie Bennett were responsible for the Walker murder. They'd seen you on TV, so they decided to take you out before you could solve their case, which you would have. We'd arrested the Robbins twins for his murder, but you were right about them being innocent, Shawn."

"Really, Jules? You were surprised about that? I'm hurt," he said jokingly.

"Right. Well, Johnson thinks Bennett probably skipped town after the shooting, so Lassiter and a team are heading over to his apartment to check it out."

"If he's gone, do I get to leave the hospital? I only ask because this gown is not my color," Shawn said, pointing at the offending grey object for emphasis.

Juliet sent a frustrated look at Shawn, her patience wearing thin after two days of the same question. "You'll be out soon, but you need a bit more time to heal, Shawn." Shifting her attention, Juliet spoke to Gus, asking, "Do you mind giving us a minute, Gus?"

"Of course. I should get back to work, anyway. I've got a meeting with a potential client I met in the waiting room a couple days ago."

"Profiting off my possible demise, Gus? Heartless."

"Selling calms me down," Gus said defensively. He nodded to Juliet and left the room without saying goodbye to Shawn. All of them knew that he wasn't actually mad.

Shawn flashed Juliet his most charming smile. "What could my personal protector possibly want me all alone for?"

Juliet sat down in the chair Gus had left empty and scooted over to the bed. "I want you for oh so many things, Shawn, but most of them aren't appropriate for a hospital room. That 'no touching in the station' rule applies to hospitals as well. Too many eyes," she said when Shawn let out a whining noise.

"But it's a private room! They don't hand these out to everyone, and we need to take advantage."

"They didn't just give it to you, you know," Juliet said. "Lassiter got it for you."

"Lassie? Did anyone check for alien body swappers?"

"I did see Gus checking him out pretty closely," she said, playing along. "Actually, Lassiter said he has a friend that got the room for you. I think he may have been talking about his gun, but there's no proof."

Juliet's grin faded as she turned serious. "I talked to your doctor while I was gone. He said that if you agree to take it easy, you should be able to leave either tomorrow or the next day. Now that's an optimistic assessment," she added.

"Jules, this is good news. Why are you acting like I'm going to throw one of these pineapples at your head?" Shawn and Juliet both looked at the huge collection of pineapples filling the room; it seemed like every officer at the station had sent a pineapple as a get well gift. "It's almost a form a torture, really. Who sends a man stuck in the hospital a pineapple that he can't cut?"

"I'll take one home tonight and slice it for you," Juliet promised. "What I was trying to say, Shawn, was that even if you're released from the hospital, you can't go home. You'll be on bed rest for a while, and on crutches when you're up. Besides, you're so pumped with antibiotics that you need to have someone with you." Juliet's voice had a pleading tone to it.

"I'm not going to throw a temper tantrum, Jules; I only do that when candy is involved. I can stay with Gus. Or maybe," he continued, turning on his charm, "if Bennett did leave and my security detail is removed, Nurse Juliet could take care of me."

"Doesn't sound so bad," Juliet flirted back. "You know nurses aren't allowed to have relationships with patients, though, right?" she teased. She took a deep breath before she spoke again. "Actually, Shawn, I think you should stay with your dad."

"My dad?" Shawn said incredulously. "I'm the victim here, Jules. Why do I need to be punished?"

"Stop being dramatic. I thought you and your dad were getting along?"

"We are," he said, "but there's a difference between short visits and staying with him. It'd be like going from running your finger through a flame to throwing yourself onto a bonfire."

Juliet shook her head, sighing. "Shawn, I'm not even going to pretend that I understand your relationship with your father, but we both know you love each other. You've been in here two days and this is the first time he hasn't been right by your side, and that's just because he practically passed out due to exhaustion. Just do it. For me, please?" she asked.

Shawn took a few seconds to think before saying, "If you were anyone else, Jules, my answer would be unsuitable for audiences under the age of seventeen, but since it's you…fine."

"Thank you, Shawn," Juliet said, relieved that he'd given in remarkably easy for something that dealt with his father. "You are a wonderful boyfriend, and I would kiss you if Miller wasn't standing guard right outside that window."

"It may be a private room, but there's still a curtain that goes around this bed," Shawn said, jerking his head toward it.

"Tempting," Juliet said, "but very risky."

"But that's what makes it so hot," Shawn stage whispered.

The pair engaged in a staring contest that ended when Juliet got up and walked around the bed. She pulled the curtain far enough to hide them from view. She leaned down and gently pressed her lips to Shawn's.

When Juliet made no attempt to go any further, Shawn smiled. "I got shot in my stomach and my leg. My face is perfect, Jules," he whispered against her lips.

Juliet breathed a chuckle before initiating another kiss. She opened her lips with the intention of deepening the kiss, but Shawn did so before she could. His tongue drew circles on the roof of her mouth, making her moan. Juliet brought a hand up and threaded her fingers through Shawn's hair, already a bit mussed from the pillow. Shawn moved to do the same to her, but his breath hitched and he winced when the movement pulled on his stitches. Juliet pulled away a few inches. Shawn craned his neck to keep in contact as long as possible.

"Jules, I'm fine," he protested. Before she could respond, the door opened and Juliet stood up, her hand moving to her weapon.

"Mr. Spencer? Detective O'Hara?" they heard.

Juliet pulled the curtain back. "Yes, Officer Miller?"

"Nothing, ma'am. The curtain was blocking Mr. Spencer from view, so I was just checking to make sure he was okay."

"Right," Juliet said, flustered. "My…uh, my-my foot…caught the curtain, and dragged it…" All three of them looked at the bottom of the curtain, several conspicuous inches above Juliet's shoes.

"Of course, Detective," Miller said. "That happens from time to time." He shot them a knowing smile before leaving the room.

Shawn smiled at the shocked look on Juliet's face. "It looks like we're not as secretive as we'd thought," he said.

**

Four days later, Shawn stood in the grocery store on the way home from the hospital. He leaned on his crutches as he looked over the array of fruit before him. After days of staying in the same room, the myriad of options before him was beautiful. He reached out and grabbed a bunch of bananas.

"Shawn!" he heard from behind him. Turning, he saw his father standing by a grocery cart looking extremely frustrated.

"Hey, Pop. Banana?" he offered as he held the bunch up.

"I told you to stay in the truck," Henry said angrily.

"I did!" Shawn protested. "For a few minutes." He grinned before continuing. "The spirits sensed something in this area and possessed my body. I wasn't even aware I was moving until I was in here."

Henry expelled the air from his lungs exasperatedly. "Shawn, don't even try that! You almost died twice in one week. You're still recovering from that madman's attacks."

Shawn smiled at the woman standing next to him, who had a bewildered look on her face after overhearing Henry's words. Instead of smiling back, she grabbed her son's hand and walked away quickly.

"Gee, Dad. Have you been practicing freaking out innocent people, because you nailed that."

"If you want the bananas, give them to me, then wait in the truck."

"I'm already in the store, Dad. Just let me hobble along beside you."

"Fine. Pull your stitches and bleed out. Do whatever you want. It's what you're best at."

The pair made their way through the store slowly, arguing over most of the items they saw. When they had spent several minutes debating over whether or not cheeseburger potato chips were appetizing, Henry couldn't take it anymore.

"Shawn, that's enough. Look, the pharmacy is right next door. Why don't you go pick up your prescription while I finish up in here?"

"All right," Shawn agreed. "Last one back to the truck has to do the dishes," he challenged.

"You're on," Henry said, thinking of the long lines at the prescription counter. He watched Shawn hobble off, much more familiar with using crutches than was comfortable for Henry. He started shopping again, grabbing the cheeseburger chips that Shawn swore were so delicious. Everything Henry picked up once Shawn left was something he thought his son would enjoy.

Ever since Henry had gotten the call almost two weeks ago that Shawn had been in an accident on La Cumbre, his son had been his number one priority. He'd try to find the men who had hurt his son, but he hadn't been good enough, and now his son had been shot. Twice. One of the men was in custody, and the other was supposedly fleeing across the country. Charlie Bennett hadn't been to his apartment since the day Shawn had been shot, and his bank accounts had been emptied. Chief Vick had seen that as enough proof to remove Shawn's protection and move on, but Henry wasn't satisfied. He wanted Bennett in jail for the rest of his life.

When Henry reached the checkout counter, thoughts of his son lying unconscious in a hospital bed were on his mind, making him gruffer with the cashier than he meant to be. He wished the young girl a good day and made his way to his truck. He smirked when he saw that Shawn wasn't back yet. His son never had learned to think things through.

Henry loaded the groceries into the back of his truck and then opened the door and slid into the cab. He waited for a few minutes before getting out and starting toward the drugstore. Shawn would never admit it, but he was probably hurting, and Henry didn't want his son in any unnecessary pain. As he walked away from the truck, a flash of white caught his eye. Looking closer, he saw that it was a medication bag. Shawn's crutches were on the ground.

Henry ran over, his heart beating fast with fear. He pulled his phone out and called Shawn. His hands tightened in frustration as he heard his son's ringtone coming from beneath his truck. Leaning down, he saw Shawn's phone on the ground. He slammed his palm against the rail of his truck bed. Bennett had his son.


	5. Chapter 5

Shawn groaned as he woke up, annoyed that someone would be playing music so loudly when he was trying to sleep. His irritation was quickly overshadowed by his blinding headache. He tried to lift a hand to his head to investigate, but his eyes popped open and any remaining grogginess fled when he realized he couldn't move his arm. Looking down, he saw that his arms and legs were tied to the ornate wooden dining chair he was occupying.

The only light illuminating the room came from behind him, and he was able to twist his neck enough to see Bennett bent over something on the kitchen counter. Shawn was in the adjoining dining room, which opened into the living room. On the other side of the living room was a small parlor and the front door. Focusing on the rooms he could see, Shawn took in the polished hardwood floors, the stocked bar, the state of the art entertainment system, and the walls adorned with various pieces of art. He leaned forward as far as he could and looked down the hall; what he could see was decorated just as nicely.

The last thing he remembered was Bennett sneaking up behind him just as he was getting ready to throw his crutches into the bed of his dad's truck. The man had pistol-whipped him, apparently hoping it would knock him out. Instead, Shawn had turned and leapt for the gun in an attempt to knock it from his attacker's hand. He'd accomplished his goal, but they'd both tumbled to the ground. Bennett had reached the gun before Shawn, then used it to force Shawn into the trunk of his car, where he'd injected Shawn with something that had sent him into oblivion two minutes later. Shawn had no idea where he was or why it rivaled Declan's house for extravagance.

The music switched off and a light came on. "Feeling a little sluggish?" he heard Bennett ask from behind him.

"I can honestly say I've never felt like a slug. Maybe a snail, but never a slug." Shawn only just realized how dry his mouth was; he figured it was a side effect of the drug.

Shawn's remark earned him a slap on the back of the head. Normally the hit would have been mildly painful, but having been pistol-whipped, it felt like Bennett had taken a swing with a sledgehammer.

Bennett moved to stand next to Shawn's left side. "I'm not in the mood for smart ass retorts, Spencer. I want information."

"I'll tell you a secret," Shawn said. Leaning forward as far as he could, he whispered, "I get my answers from Google. Shhhh. Don't tell anyone."

Bennett drove a fist into Shawn's temple, making his head whip around and the side of his face bounce off the back of the chair.

"You're only alive because you can help me, but if you're not going to, there's really no reason for me to keep you that way, is there?" Bennett asked.

"Is that rhetorical? I just…it seemed like it was, but since you want answers, I didn't want to not answer something I should," Shawn said.

Bennett leaned his face in close, his breath hot against Shawn's cheek. "Was that a yes?" he asked, bringing a hand up around Shawn's neck and squeezing tightly.

"Yes, yes," Shawn wheezed quickly. "Just call me Answer Man."

"Good," Bennett crooned, backing away slowly. "First, how does your gift work?"

"My gift?" Shawn repeated. "The last gift I got was a KitchenAid Mixer. I haven't read the instructions so I don't know how it works, but if you have one and need some ad-"

Shawn's ramblings were cut off when Bennett grabbed his throat with a murderous look on his face. Shawn thought Bennett was just going to intimidate him again, but he didn't let go and Shawn was soon struggling for air. He pulled at the ropes keeping his arms strapped to those of the chair but they wouldn't give. Adrenaline surged through his body, making his heart rate speed up and giving him just enough strength to slip his right hand free from its bonds. He immediately brought it up and pulled at Bennett's hand, bringing the man out of his murderous trance.

Bennett let go, stepping back and breathing heavily himself. Shawn drew large gulps of air into his starving lungs. He massaged his throat as he stared at Bennett, disturbed by the manic look in the man's dark blue eyes.

Agitatedly, Bennett paced back and forth in front of Shawn. He mumbled to himself, and Shawn calmed his breathing so that he could hear what Bennett was saying. When he heard Bennett refer to the Walker murder, Shawn took a chance.

"Hey, man," he said in a soothing tone, ignoring the pain in his throat. "Everyone knows Walker's death was an accident. If you let me go now, you can still have a life."

Bennett let out a disbelieving bark. "A life?" he mocked. "I was pre-med! I was supposed to be a doctor! Then Tom and I got drunk at a party and thought it'd be fun to rob his neighbor's house."

"He was supposed to be away on business. I know, man, I know," Shawn jumped in, using his own observations and what they'd learned from Johnson to complete the story. "He surprised you guys and he got knocked down the stairs. You guys tried to save him but you couldn't, so you put back everything you'd taken and left, hoping that his death would be classified as an accident. You just forgot the wedding rings in Tom's pocket. You didn't know that his death would be investigated because of that one mistake."

Bennett turned to Shawn with a crazed look in his eyes. "How do you know all of this? Tell me how your gift works!" he insisted.

"I don't know," Shawn said, keeping his voice calm so he didn't freak out Bennett even more. He held his free hand up in a soothing gesture, but it only served to remind Bennett that his prisoner had gotten partially loose. The man walked out of Shawn's sight and into the kitchen. When he came back, he held the gun to the back of Shawn's head, making him hiss in pain.

"Put your arm on the chair," he ordered.

"Do it!" Bennett persisted when Shawn hesitated, pushing the gun against Shawn's head even harder.

Shawn pursed his lips and shut his eyes tight against the pain as he complied with the order. As soon as he rested his arm on the chair, Bennett sank a syringe into his upper arm right through the fabric of his shirt. After a few seconds, Shawn felt his arm start to tingle; within a minute, it was completely numb. Despite the gun still pressed to his head, Shawn tried to lift his arm only to find that it wouldn't move.

"What'd you do?" he asked.

Bennett set the gun back on the table and started to retie Shawn's wrist. "It's just a localized muscle relaxant. Normally it'd be paired with an anesthetic to dull the pain, but I'm really just concerned with the paralyzing effect. Watch."

Bennett walked back into the kitchen and came back with a case filled with medical supplies and instruments. He lifted a scalpel and placed the tip on Shawn's forearm. Applying pressure, he drew the scalpel from Shawn's elbow to the rope on his wrist.

Shawn held his breath to keep from yelling as he felt the blade slice through his skin. He stared at his arm, willing his muscles to work, but it stayed still as the blood began to flow.

He looked at Bennett. "What the hell, man?" he yelled, outraged.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" the man said, ignoring Shawn and watching the blood soak into the ropes and drip to the floor. "The human body is quite the machine."

"Dude, med school would have been a short stint for you. They weed freaks like you out pretty early," Shawn spat. He knew he shouldn't piss off his captor, but he'd never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

The slight on his character angered Bennett. He shifted the scalpel to his left hand and made a fist with the right, driving it into the wound on Shawn's thigh. Shawn screamed, his legs reflexively trying to jolt up in response, only to be stopped by the ropes around his ankles. Breathing heavily, he glared at Bennett but kept his mouth shut.

Bennett picked up the gun again and pointed it at Shawn's head. "I'm going to ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, you're dead. Now...how does your gift work?"

"Why do want to know?" Shawn asked.

Bennett cocked the gun and brought his free hand up to steady the weapon.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Shawn yelled. "I need to know. The spirits...they communicate differently based on the situation."

"I need to know how to avoid being caught by another psychic."

"That's a really long answer," Shawn said, trying to buy time. "We all work differently, so you've got to cover a lot of possibilities."

"Fine. Just tell me what I need to know," Bennett said. He was still pointing the gun at Shawn.

"So you can kill me when I'm done?" Shawn asked incredulously. "Don't you know how to negotiate? Have you ever seen a movie with a hostage situation before? What's a good one?" he mumbled to himself. " _Speed? Air Force One? Die Hard_? Come on, you have to seen at least one of those."

Bennett aimed the gun at Shawn's right knee and fired. He missed his target, and the bullet went through Shawn's shin instead.

Shawn jerked against his bonds. His yells filled the cabin as pain pushed all rational thought from his mind. He could feel blood running down his leg to the floor to join the small puddle from his arm. Mostly he just felt the agony from the hole in his leg.

Without giving Shawn a chance to recover his breath, Bennett walked behind him. Grabbing Shawn's hair and yanking roughly, he brought the gun up to Shawn's neck and leaned down so that they were cheek to cheek.

"I have seen those movies, actually. And you know what? The guys with the guns always lose because they give up their advantages by being stupid. Do I look stupid to you?"

"I honestly don't know how to answer that," Shawn wheezed. Bennett pressed the gun, still warm from being fired, into Shawn's cheek. "No, you don't look stupid. You look like a genius. Do you mind if I start calling you Albert, 'cause, man…you are smart."

Bennett stood up straight and walked back in front of Shawn. "I know you're lying, but I'll let it slide if you answer my question."

"All right, but you might want to get some towels and bandages, because it's a long answer and I am bleeding all over your pristine floors."

"They're not mine," Bennett said, smirking. "This place is…God, I forget whose it is. My sister's boyfriend's friend's boss's friend's place," he finished, pausing between each word to think. "We all came up for some big party some weekend, but he's got a loose tongue when he's been drinking. Told me the alarm code. Oh, and don't get any idea about him saving you. The guy is loaded, and he just uses for his vacation cabin one or two weeks a year."

Shawn didn't let it show on his face, but his hope of being rescued drained away like the blood from his wounds. There was no way anyone could follow that trail of connections to this place.

"The answer, NOW, or your brain matter will be decorating the walls."

Shawn took a deep breath. If he was going out, he was going to have some fun first.

"Tin foil will block most psychics. Crazy, I know, but it works. I recommend lining all of your hats and clothes with it. People think only the head needs to be covered, but you've got to protect as much of yourself as possible. I'm not lying to you man, I swear!" Shawn protested when he saw the annoyed look on Bennett's face. "The ones people call nut jobs are the smart ones."

"You said most psychics," Bennett said, not convinced but still willing to listen. "What about the rest?"

"It takes a bit more to block your advanced psychic," Shawn said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply to fight off the dizziness he was experiencing. He opened his eyes and said cheerfully, "Like me."

His forced smile fell from his face as he began to take slow, deep breaths. "Is it hot in here?" he asked.

Bennett stepped forward and felt Shawn's forehead. He cursed when he felt how hot it was.

"How do I block them?" he insisted, but Shawn was past the point of responding. His head dropped to his chest as it suddenly felt too heavy to keep up.

Still cursing under his breath, Bennett ran into the kitchen and got a glass of water. Coming back, he rummaged through the kit on the table before finding the antibiotics he was looking for. He shook two pills into his hand and then knelt next to Shawn. Propping Shawn's head up, he opened Shawn's mouth and forced the pills inside. Shawn spit them out.

"Dammit, Spencer! I'm trying to save your life here! You'll be dead by tomorrow if you don't take these pills. Take the pills and answer my questions and I'll let you live," he bargained. Shawn nodded weakly.

Bennett got two more pills, then came back and repeated the process. Shawn opened his mouth for a drink of water and swallowed the pills.

"Let's take a break while those start working, huh?" Bennett said. "I'm going to go get a sandwich. You stay here." He slapped the back of Shawn's head as he left, disappointed when all he got in response was a flinch.

Shawn could hear Bennett in the kitchen, but his head was still spinning too much to think straight. His doctor had warned him about the importance of taking his antibiotics to kill off any lingering bacteria in his blood from his stomach wound, but he was surprised by how quickly it had overtaken him. Being shot three times in one week had obviously taken its toll.

With the antibiotics running through his system, Shawn's heart rate slowed from the alarming pace it had been and his breathing evened out. After a few minutes, Shawn was back to feeling the pain in his leg with a vengeance.

**

After what Shawn judged to be an hour or so, Bennett returned. Despite the antibiotics, his body was still worn. His thirst was unbearable thanks to the medication, his throat hurt from being choked, his head felt like it was about to explode, his arm stung like a mother, and his bullet wounds, old and new, felt like they were on fire.

"Feeling up to talking? I believe you were just going to explain how to block advance psychics."

"Right," Shawn said, voice slow and slurred. "You're not going to like this, but you need to shave all hair from your body. Hairs are like tiny little antennae. Why do you think I make Gus shave his head? We can't have other psychics knowing what we're doing."

"You're not bald," Bennett pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm a psychic. The gift doesn't work on anyone else with it. Look man, your hair is great. What is that? Dark blond or light brown? Doesn't matter," Shawn said before Bennett could respond. "It's gotta go."

Bennett looked annoyed, but he didn't make any move toward Shawn. "What else?"

"Ummm…"Shawn stalled, desperately trying to make his brain work. "Oh, if you ever think someone is reading you, you can throw it off. You'll know if they've found you if your scalp starts to itch." Shawn had seen Bennett scratch his head a lot, so it was either a nervous habit or he had a major dandruff problem; either way, Shawn knew it would make him paranoid. He gave a tiny smile when he saw the man's hand fly to his head.

"How do I stop it?" Bennett asked, panicked.

"The chicken dance. It's not actually the chicken dance," he protested when Bennett picked up the gun. "You just need a bunch of jerky movements, like a plane makes when it's trying to throw off a missile. The chicken dance is just a good guide. You've got to do it as soon as you feel the sign, though. It doesn't matter who's around, just do it."

Bennett started to nod to himself. "Okay, good. That should be enough," he said as he set the gun down. "You've been a big help, Spencer. Thanks."

"No problem, man. Just drop me off at a hospital and we'll call it even."

Bennett didn't reply, but Shawn could hear him fiddling with something from the kit behind him.

"Bennett? Bennett?" Shawn called. "Dude, don't even worry about the hospital. Just untie me and leave me here. I'll figure it out."

Bennett reappeared in front of him with a syringe. "You've helped, but you're the one who caused the problem, and you have to pay for that," Bennett said, his voice deceptively calm. "I'm not a monster, though. This is a sedative," he said, gesturing toward the syringe. "You won't even be aware of what's going on."

"That's not really a big comfort," Shawn said. He struggled against the ropes, pain forgotten as another wave of adrenaline shot through his body.

Shawn struggled as hard as he could, but he wasn't able to stop Bennett from inserting the needle into his arm. As the sedative took effect, Shawn stopped struggling and just focused on staying awake. He tried to speak to Bennett, but he found that his tongue wouldn't work. His eyelids felt heavier than ever, but he managed to keep them at least halfway open.

Behind him, Shawn heard Bennett cock the weapon and finally let his eyes close. He waited for the gunshot, but it never came. Instead, he heard Bennett swear and take off running as other people made their way into the cabin.

"FREEZE! Dammit. O'Hara, check on Spencer!" Shawn felt someone run past him and then heard a huge crash. There were sounds of a struggle, and then Lassiter was reading Bennett his rights.

Shawn wasn't sure what was going on, but it seemed like Lassiter and Juliet had managed to find him after all. He tried to open his eyes, but he didn't have the strength.

"Shawn! SHAWN!" he heard Jules yell. She checked for a pulse, calling for the med team before she'd even taken it.

"Shawn! Shawn! Let me go! That is my son! Shawn!" His dad was here, too, apparently being kept out of the cabin.

Shawn was just wondering about Gus when he heard his friend shout. "Shawn! Juliet, is he all right?"

"Gus, just let the paramedics do their job, okay?" he heard Juliet say. He felt a wave of gratitude that she would calm Gus down.

He felt the ropes on his wrists and ankles being untied, and then he was lowered onto a stretcher. The medics were spouting medical jargon, but he found that he didn't care. His friends and family had found him. Feeling completely safe for the first time in two weeks, Shawn fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

"Gus!" Shawn called from where he was lounging on Henry's couch. His physical therapy had ended the day before, and he was celebrating his official recovery by continuing the movie marathon he had started once leaving the hospital.

Gus appeared in the doorway wearing an apron and carrying a bowl of cake batter. "Shawn, this needs to go in the oven now or it won't be ready for the party."

"What are you talking about? Cake batter is delicious. Check it out, though. Your favorite scene from _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_."

"Shawn, it was your idea to have an 'I Survived' party. You should be helping me, not distracting me."

"Gus, don't be a _Land Before Time_ sequel. We've got Skittles, we've got pineapple, we've got cake batter, and Jules is bringing the piñata. It'll be epic. Now, relax and watch Ferris twist and shout."

Gus raised his chin in defiance, then smirked as he relented. "I do love this part," he said.

"Of course you do," Shawn encouraged. "Only men whose mothers never hugged them and people who don't think kittens are cute hate this scene."

The pair watched the movie for a few minutes before they heard Juliet knock on the door.

"It's open!" Shawn yelled.

Juliet opened the door and stepped in cautiously. "Shawn, I don't think your father would appreciate you leaving his door unlocked."

"Yeah, well, my father doesn't appreciate how great my hair is either. He'll get over it."

"Where is he?" Juliet asked, having noticed that Henry's truck wasn't in the driveway.

"Fishing," Shawn answered. "He'll be back in time for the party."

Gus looked at his friend questioningly. "You did ask your dad if you could have the party at his house, right?"

Shawn pursed his lips and hummed while he thought. "Oh, look. Lassie's here, too. Did you guys come together?" he asked Juliet, not answering the question.

Juliet, still standing, nodded and opened the door for her partner. Lassiter stepped inside carrying a custom piñata of Shawn.

"You got it! Way to go, Lassie!" Shawn enthused. He hopped off the couch and bounded over to Lassiter to inspect the paper maché creation.

"Spencer, this is the best idea you've ever had," Lassiter said as he handed the piñata to Shawn.

Shawn looked at Lassiter suspiciously. "Who are you? Where's the curmudgeon we all know and love?" he asked, pinching Lassiter's cheek.

Lassiter didn't move, but if looks could kill, Shawn would be in the ground already. "Touch me again, and that piñata will last a lot longer than you," he deadpanned.

"There he is! Good to have you back, Lassie," Shawn celebrated. He shifted his attention to his paper doppelganger. "This is amazing. The hair needs some work, but that's understandable."

"I don't know, Shawn," Juliet said. "The whole idea seems kind of morbid to me."

"Thank you, Juliet," Gus pitched in from the couch. "I told you it was macabre, Shawn."

Shawn titled his head in thought. "I think you mean 'macraba,' Gus."

"That's not a word, Shawn."

"Yes, it is. It means gruesome and grisly and horrid and all that type of stuff," Shawn argued.

"It's 'macabre,'" Gus insisted.

"I've heard it both ways."

"No, you haven't."

"The point is, Shawn," Juliet interjected, "it's a little upsetting."

"Don't listen to them, Spencer," Lassiter said. "I'm looking forward to it."

"To what? Beating it with a stick?" Juliet asked, still unable to understand why Lassiter disliked Shawn so much.

"I'm just being honest," Lassiter defended. "That's what you do to a piñata."

"Come on, Jules, it's funny," Shawn cajoled. "I had the crap beat out of me, and this little guy is going to have the stuffing beat out of him."

"O'Hara, if you ruin this for me, you don't get to lead a case for at least a month."

"Empty threat, Carlton. You never let me lead," Juliet rebuked.

Shawn handed the piñata back to Lassiter and put his arm around Juliet's shoulders. "Will you help me in the kitchen, Jules?" he asked before Lassiter could respond. "Gus forgot the Bugles, so I need your opinion on what to put out in their place."

"I did not forget them, Shawn. You used them all making shadow monsters at the office last night."

"Oh, yeah," Shawn drawled as if he had forgotten. "Completely worth it," he declared.

Shawn steered Juliet toward the kitchen. "You two stay here and save Ferris," he told Gus and Lassiter.

Lassiter glared at Shawn. "Ferris Bueller is a delinquent and a charlatan. I don't understand why everyone likes him."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Rooney. Stay here with Cameron while Sloan and I go talk," Shawn said.

"Shawn, that makes you Matthew Broderick," Gus pointed out.

Juliet looked confused. "What's wrong with Matthew Broderick?" she asked.

"Nothing," Shawn said. "Gus just has some unresolved issues with _The Cable Guy_."

"So do you, Shawn, and don't even pretend you don't."

"Gus, how many times do we have to talk about this. My problems are with the story, not the actors," Shawn explained.

"Would you two girls shut up already?" Lassiter shouted. He shook his head slowly, amazed that the two could argue about the most meaningless things.

"All right, Carlyton," Shawn soothed, "but only because I care about you and I'm worried about your blood pressure." Shawn just smiled at the murderous look on Lassiter's face as he and Juliet left the room and went into the kitchen.

Juliet looked around. There were pineapple rinds littering the counter, empty Skittle bags lying next to a bowl filled with the colorful candy, and cake mix dusting the spot next to an empty box. "What were you thinking for Bugle replacements?" she asked, turning to Shawn.

Shawn grinned. "My dad's got some Doritos. Problem solved."

"Did you lure me here under false pretences, Mr. Spencer?" Juliet asked, playing the part of detective.

"Any complaints?" Shawn wrapped his arms around Juliet's waist and pulled her flush against him.

Juliet sighed contentedly and lifted her arms up around Shawn's neck. "I've missed this," she said, closing her eyes and snuggling her head against his chest.

"You've missed hugging me in my dad's kitchen?"

Pulling her head back and looking at Shawn, Juliet said, "Well, that, and hugging you without having to worry about hurting you."

"You're free to do more than just hug me, Jules," Shawn said, leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss. Shawn stumbled forward until Juliet's back was against the pantry door. Juliet played with the hair at the nape of Shawn's neck while she stroked his tongue with her own. She leaned against the pantry and wrapped her left leg around Shawn's right, pulling him even closer.

Juliet's whimper when Shawn pulled away turned into a moan of pleasure when he shifted his attention to her neck. He pressed his tongue against her skin and then leaned away slightly; his hot breath on the cool area brought goose bumps.

Kissing his way upward, Shawn nibbled on Juliet's ear lightly. "What do you say we go upstairs?" he whispered.

"People are supposed to start arriving soon," she answered, ignoring her body's desperate urgings to comply.

"Jules," Shawn whined, "it's not my fault you're too gorgeous to keep my hands off."

Juliet smiled at the compliment, but she didn't give in. "You're pretty hot stuff yourself, Shawn, but we're not doing anything when Chief Vick could show up any minute."

"You know you want to," Shawn encouraged.

"I do, but not right now. We can wait a few hours until the party's over. It's called delayed gratification, Shawn."

"Never experienced it," he said. "I always get what I want."

Juliet shook her head amusedly. "Not this time."

"Wanna bet?"

"On what?" Juliet asked, looking at Shawn questioningly.

Shawn stroked an imaginary beard as he thought. "I bet that I can get you to drag me off to a secluded spot sometime before the party ends."

"All right," Juliet said warily, suspecting that Shawn had a strategy in mind but sure she would be able to withstand it. "When I win, you have to take me to Mario's."

"Jules, you are addicted to their bread. I'm starting to think you need an intervention. I'll take you, but not because of the bet, because we both know I'm going to win. When I do, you have to watch the _Police Academy_ movies with me."

"The last time you challenged me you fell off a mountain. Sure you want to do this?"

"Juliet, I've never been so sure in my life. Well, maybe that time Gus and I decided to buy train tickets to LA and audition for roles in a movie."

"High school?" Jules asked.

"No, four months ago. We didn't get them," Shawn said forlornly.

"Too bad," Juliet comforted sarcastically. She slapped Shawn's hand away from where he was trying to get it under the hem of her shirt. Not to be deterred, Shawn smiled and moved his hand up to stroke Juliet's cheek. He leaned in for a kiss but the doorbell rang before he reached his goal.

"Go be the host," Juliet urged, waving her hands in a shooing motion.

Shawn stepped back slowly. "Don't think I won't be back," he warned.

Over the next hour, most of the people from the station and a few other friends, including Dennis and Molly Gogolack, showed up. Shawn spent most of his time neglecting his duties as host and finding excuses to speak to Juliet. Juliet spent her time staying within Chief Vick's sight and hearing while introducing Gus to a couple of her friends. Eventually, Shawn had enough. He grabbed Juliet's arm and dragged her into the kitchen, spouting something about a problem with the music selection.

"Jules, you're cheating!" he accused as soon as they were alone.

"Am not!" she defended. "You never said anything about where I stand."

Shawn reached for Juliet, determined to use the time alone to his advantage, but he was interrupted again.

"What the hell is going on here, Shawn?" Henry yelled. He was wearing his fishing hat and vest and carrying his tool kit.

Shawn turned around and threw his arms out. "Surprise!" he shouted.

"It's not my birthday," he said, decidedly unamused.

"It's not," Shawn agreed placatingly, "but it is my 'I Survived' party."

"'I Survived' party," Henry muttered to himself in disbelief. "Shawn, when are you ever going to grow up?"

"When you stop blinding innocent people with your shirts."

"Still making jokes, I see. It was too close this time, Shawn. The only reason you're alive is because Frick was having problems with raccoons in his trash. We're lucky the guy is rich enough to set up cameras and motion detectors for an animal problem." Henry ran a tired hand over his face. They'd saved Shawn weeks ago, but he still felt the worry and fear he had when Bennett had taken him.

Shawn frowned and said, "I still can't believe I owe my life to raccoons. Furry little bastards must want to kill me themselves."

Henry shook his head in annoyance. "Shawn, you've got fifteen minutes to get these people out of here. I smell like fish and I want to take a shower."

"But we haven't done the piñata yet!"

"Then do it and get out of here," Henry commanded.

Henry set his supplies down and the three made their way into the living room. Shawn stopped dead when he saw everyone standing by the walls and Lassiter taking a powerful swing at the miniature Shawn Spencer hanging from the ceiling fan. He celebrated by thrusting a fist into the air when he connected.

"Lassie!" Shawn shouted, upset that Lassiter started the process without him.

Henry shouted for a different reason. "Lassiter, if you damage my house, you're going to pay the damages." He turned to Shawn. "Why is there a bowl of cake batter out? That's disgusting, Shawn." Shawn waved a hand to dismiss his father's question, his focus still on Lassiter and the piñata.

Lassiter looked up with a huge smile on his face. "Spencer, you really know how to throw a party."

"You're supposed to wear a blindfold, Carlton," Juliet said.

"And miss seeing this thing destroyed? I don't think so, O'Hara."

Chief Vick stepped in and took the stick from Lassiter. "Let's give someone else a turn, Detective." She looked around and handed the stick to Buzz.

"Oh, that's okay, Chief. I really don't want to hit Shawn, even if he's fake," he said, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at his wife, and she rubbed his back in support. "Does someone else want to try?" he offered.

Gus raised his hand up by his head. "I do."

"Gus, I thought you said it was macraba," Shawn said.

"Macabre," Gus corrected, "and you're the one who said it was okay." Gus took the stick from Buzz's extended hand and started preparing himself. He positioned himself right by the piñata and then walked three steps away. He closed his eyes and shook his head and arms to loosen up. Turning around and facing his target, Gus breathed deeply and swung on the exhale. He clipped the very bottom and stumbled when he lost his balance. Standing up straight, he looked at the corner where Juliet's friends were standing and smiled as if he had missed on purpose. One raised her eyebrows in doubt while the other smiled in return.

Shawn jumped in to do his job as wingman. "Thanks, Gus," he said loudly. "I really appreciate you giving everyone else a chance. Who's next?" he called to the room.

"I'll go," Juliet volunteered. She stepped forward and took the stick from Gus, motioning for the two men to step back. Once they had, she raised the stick. Her stance and her grip indicated that she had spent a substantial amount of time on a softball field. She hit the middle of the piñata with a forceful swing, breaking it in half. Candy fell out of the top half while the bottom tore away and flew across the room and hit Shawn. Shawn grabbed his face with both hands and groaned theatrically.

"Oh, my God, Shawn!" Juliet yelled, running over to him. "I'm so sorry!"

"It hurts! My eye hurts!" he whined.

Gus gasped, horrified that something might have happened to his friend's eye. "It'll be okay, Shawn," he soothed, trying to comfort himself as much as Shawn.

Juliet turned to Henry. "Is your first aid kit still upstairs?" she asked. Henry nodded. "Let's get you checked out," she said to Shawn, pulling him out of his half crouch and steering him through the crowd surrounding them.

When everyone around them had backed off, Juliet saw Carlton kneeling and picking through the candy on the floor. "Carlton!" she reprimanded.

"What?" he cried defensively. "Spencer will be fine."

Juliet shook her head disappointedly as she pulled Shawn along with her. Reaching the stairs, she led him upstairs and into the bathroom.

"Okay, Shawn, let me see," she said, pulling at his hands. When he finally removed them, she was surprised to see his eyes wide open and a huge smile on his face.

"I win," he sang.

"What?" Jules asked, confused.

"I win," Shawn repeated clearly.

"You're all right? You were faking it?"

"You weren't exactly playing by the rules, Jules. I had to do something, and look. Here we are, all alone in this secluded room that you dragged me into," he said with a grin.

"Yeah, to look at your eye, not to seduce you," Juliet argued.

"Jules, don't deny you want to have your naughty way with me. Besides, the bet didn't specifically mention seduction."

"You will never be able to admit that you lost, will you, Shawn? You're taking me to Mario's," she ordered, leaning against the sink and crossing her arms.

"Fine, but only if you say that I won," he stipulated.

"No way! You say that I won and we'll watch the _Police Academy_ movies anyway."

"We both say it. On three. One, two, three," Shawn counted.

"You win."

"I win," they both said at the same time.

Shawn opened his mouth in mock surprise. "You think I won, too? That's very good of you to concede the truth, Jules."

Juliet playfully glared at her boyfriend. Shawn stepped in front of Juliet and encircled her in his arms; she stayed stiff for a few seconds before relenting and relaxing in Shawn's embrace. She brought one hand up and fiddled with Shawn's collar.

"The bet's over and here we are alone in this room. What do you think we should do?" she asked. She lowered her free hand and rested it on Shawn's belt buckle.

"You read my mind, Jules," Shawn said breathlessly, tightening his arms and pulling Juliet even closer. He leaned in for a kiss, catching Juliet's lower lip with his teeth and teasing it gently.

Juliet enjoyed the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away. "So, you were thinking that we should tell everyone we need to go get your eye checked out?"

"And by 'getting my eye checked out,' you mean…?" he asked leadingly.

"Heading back to my place."

Shawn smirked. "That's _exactly_ what I was thinking, Jules." He grabbed a washcloth from the closet and wet it, and then placed it over his eye. They shared a quick kiss before going back downstairs. If any guests were suspicious about the pair's hasty departure, they kept their thoughts to themselves.


End file.
